#i realize that i have been dropping the name brett and miles a lot for someone who has new followers nFJKDSNFKJDSFN. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 5 years ago

Text

it’s what you deserve - pt. four

summary: Brett gives you the day out you deserve to get your mind off of Max.

word count: 2.2k

link to the rest of the series

The next morning you woke up to the sound of the front door slamming shut. Still feeling the effects of sleep, you rolled over to find your phone, which you thankfully had the common sense to plug into the charger the night before.

A crimson blush coated your cheeks as you remembered just what had happened before you crashed into the pillows. Max bailing on your date with no explanation or heads up. Bee telling the boys that it was a fairly common thing and lamenting about how much he sucked. Brett coming in and comforting you.

That's the one that got you the most, because you were used to the actions of both Bee and Max, but Brett being there for you was new. It was also something you could get used to, remembering how ease you were laying with him. Not that you would tell that bit of information to anyone.

You had a couple of texts, one from Bee saying she had to go run errands and was meeting up with Adam after. That explained the front door shutting that had woken you up. The second text you had received subconsciously brought a smile to your face, though you didn't let yourself think too much into it.

I have morning skate and a team meeting at night but from brunch until dinner I'm all yours

Brett had sent you the message early in the morning, presumably before his skate. You contemplated your response, but then you read his subsequent text, and you were gigging to yourself.

You're not allowed to say no, by the way. I already got Bee's permission and I'm picking you up

Not sure just when Brett would show up, you quickly hopped into the shower and got ready. You also weren't sure what he had in mind for the day, so you chose a simple pair of jeans and a sweater that was casual but nice enough for brunch.

Just as you were searching for a pair of matching socks, there was a knock on the door. You tossed it open, after checking to make sure it was who you were expecting, and soon after Brett was greeting you with a hug.

“So am I allowed to ask where you're taking me?” You teased, retreating back into your room to find your shoes. Brett followed behind you, chuckling as he trailed. You were smiling widely, a grin that was mirrored on his face.

“I'm taking you for brunch, and then I have a few other places I want go but other than that you can pick.” He shrugged. Unlike when he was in your room the night before, he took in his surroundings as you sat on the edge of your bed and tied your shoes. There was a small vanity in your room, the top full of pictures of your friends and family, along with the odd textbook. He was examining the various photos and objects that littered the desk, and you took a moment to admire him.

When you had first met him, you knew he was the most handsome guy you had ever seen. Getting to know him over the past few months only reaffirmed the fact that he was attractive in both looks and personality. Now that he stood in your room, with his back to you, could you take a moment to take in his appearance.

His hair was a still bit damp from his post-practice shower, but mostly it was covered with a beanie. He wore a sweatshirt with a jean jacket overtop, black denim pants, and it was all tied together with a pair of nice white sneakers. You glanced up, meeting Brett's gaze in the mirror. Immediately, you flushed, worried that he might have caught you staring.

He didn't say anything, though, and instead led you out of your apartment and to the diner of his picking. You both ordered, and he told you how his morning skate went. After a moment, neither of you were talking, though you were both looking at each other with a soft smile on your faces. It was dangerous, having him look at you like that and for the sake of your sanity you had to do something about it.

“As much as I love this,” you started, balling up the straw wrapper and tossing it at his face, eliciting a chuckle from him. “and I do, trust me, but why am I being kidnapped all day?”

You almost immediately wanted to take back your question with the way Brett reacted. His shoulders slumped a bit, his smile dropping to a more neutral look, and suddenly the napkin he was fiddling with was the most interesting thing.

“I felt bad about the whole Max thing last night, you don't deserve that.” He said with a shrug. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but before you could even began to question it, the waitress reappeared and set your plates down in front of you both.

Brett made sure to change the topic after that, asking you about classes and your family and anything else he could think to distract you. And it worked, because by the time you were leaving the diner and on your way to the next location, you remembered his odd behavior, though you decided not to question it.

The place Brett had wanted to go to was a rescue shelter, and if you hadn't been so excited to see the dogs and cats, you probably would've melted right on the sidewalk. You had mentioned weeks ago that you missed your family dog, and that you liked to go to shelter to feel better.

“We can go someplace else, if you want.” Brett said, rubbing the back of his neck. He must have interpreted your silence as bad, but when you turned towards him and he spotted your grin, an infectious smile of his own grew across his face.

“Are you kidding me? Come on.” You chuckled, grabbing his hand and tugging him inside. You were certain that you had no effect on whether or not he moved, and that he was just indulging you in thinking that you were actually pulling him. It was endearing, how he could throw you over his shoulder whenever he so chose but acted like you were pulling against his will. Inside the shelter, a middle aged woman stood behind a counter, smiling brightly at you as you entered.

“Hi! Can I help you with anything today?” She asked, looking between you and Brett.

“We wanted to look at the dogs?” Brett told her, and she nodded, handing you both a sign in sheet before gesturing to where the kennels are located.

“Are you guys looking to adopt? Any of these dogs would be lucky to go home with a couple as lovely as the two of you.” She said politely, not realizing her mistake in assuming. It was then that you realized you hadn't dropped Brett's hand yet, which you so did like his touch burned you.

Which, okay, it did—but not in a bad way.

“We're not, uh, together.” You explained, cheeks flaming up at the implication. You risked a side glance towards Brett, only to find he was very focused on signing his name, his own blush creeping up his neck and turning his entire face red. She apologized, but you waved her off, heading in the back where the dogs all were. For a moment, things were stiff between you and Brett for what felt like the first time since you had met him. It was suffocating, almost, the few inches separating you as you walked side by side felt like miles due to the silence.

“Big dogs or little dogs?” He questioned, and just like that things were normal again. You looked over to him, grin on your face matching his. In an act of bravery, he slung an arm across your shoulders and tugged you into his side.

And you stayed like that, tucked under his arm, even when he dropped you back off at your apartment. You had insisted that he didn't need to walk you all the way to your door, that nothing was going to happen to you in the elevator ride up, but he claimed his mom raised him to be a gentleman. You were glad he did, though, because when you stepped off the elevator there was a figure outside your door.

“Max?” You questioned, shock evident in your tone. He hadn't texted you since the night before, when he had said that he was going to meet you at the restaurant—the very same one he didn't bother to show up at. You could feel Brett tighten his grip on you, his arm pulling you slightly closer into his side.

“Hey, there you are.” Max replied, looking at you and pointedly ignoring Brett as you approached your door. Bee wasn't back yet, so you wondered briefly just how long he had been standing there. Only when you reached your door, did Max shift his attention to the man you had arrived with. “It's Brent, right?”

“Brett.” The Rangers forward replied, his voice colder than you had ever heard it. You busied yourself by putting the key in the lock, hoping Brett would get the silent signals you were sending his way to tell him not to leave you alone with Max, to stick around until he left. You didn't feel like dealing with him at the moment, especially since he had been ignoring you for nearly twenty-four hours at this point. “Mac, right?”

You cleared your throat, trying hard to hide your smile at Brett's comment. Clearly, years of dealing and taking hockey chirps had taught him how to be petty. Plus, the look of surprise on Max's face was enough to make you feel slightly better about how he had treated you.

“Can I ask you why you've been hanging around my girl a lot lately?” Max asked Brett and you stiffened. You were in no way, shape, or form his girl and if anything, his actions the night before proved that.

Something seemed to switch in Brett in the second it took for him to digest Max's words. The Brett you knew was smiley, he was soft and often giggled. He was playful, sometimes messing up your hair just because he knew it'd get you to joking glare at him. You adored that Brett.

The Brett standing before you was glaring harshly at Max, shoulders squared and looking very much like the six-foot three professional hockey player he was. He didn't scare you, you were positive you could never be afraid of him. You did, though, worry about how Max would react. You didn't know why he thought it would be a good idea to piss Brett off, but you knew you had to intervene before things got out of hand. You didn't want to deal with a fight in the hallway outside your apartment, you could practically smell the testosterone between the two men.

“You need to leave, we're not doing this right now.” You told Max, and after a short staring contest with Brett did he look at you. Still, he didn't say anything to you, studying your face and trying to find out how he could come out on top. Only once Brett cleared his throat did he stop analyzing your every move, and once more you were thankful he had come up with you.

“I'll see you later, babe.” Max said, leaning down to press a kiss your lips. At the last second, once you realized what he was attempting to do, you turned your head to the side and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. He didn't comment, only looking at you with confusion before deciding to take leave. Everything was silent, you and Brett watching Max's back retreat until he was cut off from your view by the elevator.

“I don't get it.” Brett sighed, shaking his head. Your heart sank at the mere thought that he was disappointed in your choice of men, in you. You opened your apartment door, slipping just inside and turning to face the tall boy standing in the hallway, looking at you with the saddest expression in his eyes. The short interaction with Max took your mood and tanked it, and all you wanted to do now was lay on the couch and mope.

“You should probably go to your meeting.” You started, hating yourself for being the cause of Brett's shoulders slumping, his hands buried in his pockets and gaze trained on the floor. He really did have to go, but he hadn't moved.

You caved. You wanted him to go so you could clear your head about everything that had happened in the past ten minutes, but somehow you knew that you would feel so much worse if you let him leave while upset. So, you wrapped your arms around his middle, and he instantly tucked your head against his chest, resting his chin on top of it.

“Thank you for being here today, Brett.”

#brett howden #Brett Howden x reader #Brett Howden imagine #its what you deserve #New York rangers #New York rangers imagine #New York rangers imagines #hockey #hockey imagine #NHL #NHL imagine

40 notes · View notes

deniigi · 5 years ago

Note

I heard you that you were taking prompts and I thought that maybe seeing Brett or Foggy interact with Daredevil and Miles-Spidey from your ITSV verse would be pretty cool. Feel free to throw this away if it’s not what you’re looking for!

I actually have something similar-ish to this in my drafts.

I’m putting this one under the cut since it’s a little longer.

Lol, so the premise of the larger piece this is from is that Technicolor Peter’s mutation reacts violently to the appearance of other spideys and kind of puts him into a berserk mode so all he wants to do is tear them limb from limb. Doesn’t show up much in this bit, but that’s the working idea here.

———–

“Put your hands up,” Brett called, full-voice.

Surprisingly, the four masks did this without question.

“Get on your knees.”

It was almost like they could sense the guns. Brett didn’tlike to aim one at anyone, but this shit was going too far. And Peter wasspeechless with fury this time. He’d tangled with a few of these characters onthe way to this particular alley and, to Brett’s surprise, had come out onbottom. Scrambling off from beneath one after the other.

Brett wasn’t sure if it was the quality of the costumes or thedesigns that pissed him off, or if it was the challenge to his territory, but anywayaround, little Pete was not havingthese cosplayers that night. He stayed crouched low against a nearby wall, morespiderlike than Brett had seen him.

Unhappy.

This was one unhappy Spidey.

He realized belatedly that his suspects were chatteringamong themselves and repeated the command for them to kneel.

“Dude, we gotta kneel,” one of them—the smallest one—hissedat the others.

“We don’t have time for this,” the one in the white suitsnapped.

“We don’t have timeto get shot either,” the small one insisted.

Boy had some sense in his head, then. That was a relief.

“He won’t shoot, he’s got no reason to—”

“Now. He’s got noreason to now.”

Brett really liked the small one. He glanced over to Peter,still sunken into the wall, and jerked his head a little. Asking him if he hadanything to say to these guys before they got to the hand-cuffing part of theevening. He didn’t respond.

Well, alright then.

“This is the last time I’m gonna say it, y’all. Get on yourknees,” Brett called.

“Hey, can you take a bullet?” the second tallest of thegroup asked the tallest over his shoulder.

“Take a—do I look like Superman to you???”

The second tallest Spidey turned his head to the side justbarely and shrugged lightly.

“Well, I mean. You dowork for a newspaper.”

“Is that seriously your baseline for bulletproof right now?”

“Yes?”

“Hey,” Brett called to get their attention. All four wentrigid and then eased up.

“Okay, alright, everyone shut up,” the tallest guy said tothe others. “This might be a good thing. We can make this work.”

Make what work? And why the fuck were they still blabberingon?

“This is it,” the smallest one moaned, “This is it. My dadis gonna kill me.”

“Same,” the white spidey sighed.

“No one’s dad is killing anyone,” The tallest guy said. “Weare just going to explain to this very nice officer and his very nice,marginally feral Spidey what’s goingon and through exuberance and charm, we will find the chain and then be righton our way—right, officer?”

Oh. That had been for his benefit, then, had it?

Ha.

Nice try.

****

“Name?”

“Parker.”

“Given name?”

“Peter.”

“Listen, sir. This is not a funny joke.”

“No, you listen, my friend. I am hilarious, but also 100% not trying to be funny right now. Name:Peter B. Parker. That one’s just Peter Parker.”

“So he’s your nephew, sir?”

This made the blond kid scream into his cuffed hands andsent the other two kids—kids becauseof fucking course they were—into peals of muffled giggling. The big uncle wasbeyond unimpressed.

“Yes,” he said, totally deadpan.

“Oh my god, no,”the blond kid burst out, “No, no, no.”

“He’s my nephew,” the uncle said tightly.

“I’m not. We’re cousins at most—”

“They named him after me ‘cause I’m so fucking handsome.”

“Oh my GOD, B. Shut the fuck up right—”

“They saw greatness and knew exactly what to do.”

This guy was. Well. He actually was kind of a riot. Half thestation was pretending like they weren’t giggling.

Funny, they were. Yes. But that did not make the situationone iota less unbelievable. Peter B. Parker had a state ID which literally,actually read ‘Peter Benjamin Parker’ and, for all that Brett could tell, itwas not a fake. He snuck it off to forensics to see if they thought it was afake, and while he and Steph held it, it fucking buzzed and zipped andshattered into color before resuming its normal corporeal form.

“Well, this is interesting,” Steph said.

Interesting, on the forensics team, was code for ‘bad.’

Steph and Kev came with Brett back into the bullpen wherethe blond kid was firmly renouncing any relation to his uncle. He was kind of ariot too.

“I’ve never met this man in my life,” he kept insisting. “Ionly know these guys. They were all, hey let’s do Halloween early—let’s allpretend to be Spiderman which is just silly,right?”

“Sir, do you have an ID?”

“And I said, like an idiot, no, yeah. That’s sounds likeit’ll be a great time, and really,it’s only karma that we’d end up getting arrested.”

“Sir,” Isabel said slowly, with immense patience.

“It’s a onesie, ma’am, not a whole lot of room for pockets.”

“Sir. It will be easier for all of us if you have an ID.”

“Yeah, Peter,” theuncle said nastily, “You heard the lady. The cheek of you, talking back likethat.”

“Oh my—he’s not myuncle. I swear.”

Isabel looked between the two of them and like. Even Brettcould see the resemblance there. From a distance even. Nah, man. Nice try.

“He’s not. This isjust a biological accident—”

“That’s what his mama calls him,” the uncle stage-whisperedto Isabel. He had absolutely charmed Isabel. They needed to get him a differentofficer for booking ASAP.

“Oh my god,” Blondie moaned into his hands. “This was amistake.”

Isabel could not keep her face straight. She asked for theID again and this time Blondie dug through his suit and shoved it at herwithout eye contact.

“Peter Parker,” she read.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You know, we’re familiar with a kid with this same name.”

“I am not even a little surprised, ma’am.”

“Are you guys all related?”

“Biologically and theoretically speaking—”

“Yep.” Uncle had this shit on lockdown. Blondie glared athim and pursed his lips. Kid looked like a model. Also a little homicidal. Heand Uncle probably ought to be placed in different holding cells.

Steph and Kev were entranced by these people. Even more sowhen Blondie’s ID did the same buzzing-zapping thing that Uncle’s had inIsabel’s hand. She nearly dropped it.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Well, most likely,it was the misalignment of particles from—”

“Act of god.”

Thanks, Uncle B. Blondie mugged at him with every bit of hisjaw he could weaponize. The kids were just about in tears. The girl looked kindof familiar, actually, now that Brett got a good look at her.

“How old are you?” he asked.

Silence among the children.

“Sixteen,” she said.

“Name?”

“Uuuuuh.”

Yeah, that’s what he thought.

“Need your name, honey,” he said. “Ain’t no use in making upone now.”

“Gwen.”

Now, was that so hard?

“And you?” he asked the young black boy next to her. Hedropped his eyes immediately.

“Miles.”

“How old are you, son?”

“Uh.”

Gwen elbowed him right in the ribs and gave him a Look.

“F-fifteen?”

Ummmm, no. Try again.

“Fourteen, sir.”

That was better. Someone had disciplined the ever-lovingshit out of this boy. He was good and respectful.

“What were you two doing out in the middle of the night withthe dream team over here?” Brett asked. “You guys forming a cosplaying club orsomething?”

“Uh.”

“We aren’t cosplaying,” Blondie snapped. “That guy’s thereal Spiderman.” He pointed at his uncle, who was offended as hell at theaccusation. “He got bit by a radioactive spider and then I got bit by a radioactive spider and then Gwen got bit by a—”

Okay, Brett got the idea. He looked at Uncle B.

“You’re Spiderman, then,” he said flatly. Uncle B thoughtabout it like a guy trying to remember where his damn keys were.

“Mmmmm, sure why not?”

What.

Who the fuck was he?

“Peter B. Parker,” Brett repeated. “Spiderman.”

“Pretty much.”

“Peter Parker,” Brett started.

“No, no. Peter B. Parker. The B’s important.”

This was ridiculous. Steph and Kev poked at the guy from theside and he lit up like he’d touched a live wire. His body jerked and burstinto colors like his ID had.

What.

The fuck.

“I’m—okay, you. You seem like some kinda scientist,” Brettsaid to Blondie who went stiff as a board and started stammering. “What thefuck is happening?,” Brett demanded. “I already got the night crew to dealwith, I don’t need any more crazy in my life right now.”

“Uuuuh. Can I? Have counsel?”

#fic #into the multiverse #dreamcoats verse #that person who sent me a message about getting Miles and Brett to interact a million years ago is responsible for this #I haven't stopped thinking about it since #ficlet

97 notes · View notes

evansandblack · 7 years ago

Text

Little Monster Ch. 3 - Nolan Holloway

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Lauren’s outfit

Summary: Lauren tries to help locate Brett while also attempting to deal with Nolan’s behavior. When they fail to save Brett and Lori, she prepares to go on a rampage to destroy whoever it is that killed them while also helping Liam deal with his emotions.

Warnings: Language. A lot of crying.

Words: 3.4k

Tag List: @handprints-on-my-s0ul @froygutierreez @fandom-blog27 (If anyone wants to be added to the tag list for this, send me a message here.)

Within minutes of finding out that Brett was missing, I already had shoes on, my keys in hand, and was ready to do whatever necessary to find him.

“So what’s the plan?” I asked Liam.

“I’m going with Scott, Lori, and Malia to look in the woods. But I don’t think you guys should come. It’s too dangerous.” He said.

“Fine. I’m calling Lydia for help.” I said, grabbing my phone and dialing her number.

When she picked up, I didn’t both exchanging pleasantries. “Brett’s missing. We need your help. Can you meet us at the high school in ten minutes?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” She said.

We hung up a second later.

“Okay, Mason. We’re going to find Corey, tell him what’s going on, Lydia’s going to meet us. Maybe she can help figure something out. And Liam, obviously you’re going with Scott.” I said.

We all walked out of the house.

As Liam closed the front door behind him, I turned to hug him tightly. “Be careful tonight, please. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

He nodded and hugged me back. “I’m always careful. Let me know if you come up with any ideas, okay?”

I nodded back. “Of course. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He said as Mason and I got into my car.

I pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the high school, my speed at least five miles over the limit at all times.

Lydia’s car was already in the lot when we pulled up.

“Find Corey.” I told Mason. “We’ll meet up with you in a minute.”

I walked up to Lydia and she reached out, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Lauren, take a deep breath.”

“What? Why?” I asked.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Because you’re freaking out and you need to calm down. If you get upset or angry, that’s not going to help.”

I followed her instructions and took a few deep breaths, feeling my heart rate slow down. “Okay, better.”

“Let’s go find the boys, then we’re going to try to initiate a premonition.” She said.

“Do you think it will work?” I asked as she pulled me towards the school, still holding on my hand.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. But we have to try something.”

We found Mason and Corey a minute later and Lydia guided us towards one of the science labs. We took a seat at one of the lab tables and watched as Lydia set up one of the Bunsen burners and lit it.

She stared into the blue flame, a pen in her hand a blank paper in front of her.

Mason and Corey were talking beside me but I wasn’t really hearing the words that they were saying. My mind was reeling, running through various scenarios or ideas of where Brett could be.

I heard Lydia tell them to stop talking and snapped back into the present.

Corey reached out towards the set of Newton balls sitting on the desk and lifted one, letting it clank back together with the rest of them. Mason stopped them from making anymore noise and I gently smacked Corey’s hand away. “Stop that.”

I looked back to Lydia, seeing her eyes narrow and suddenly she was scribbling things on the paper.

She filled almost the entire paper before snapping out of it.

However, nothing on the paper really made much sense.

“Does anyone speak Chinese?” Corey asked.

“My phone does!” Mason said, pulling his phone out and a snapping a picture of the writing.

“What’s that Roman numeral?” I asked Lydia.

“68.” She responded.

A second later, Mason spoke up. “68, that’s what the Chinese says too.”

“E, R.” Lydia muttered.

“ER what? Emergency room?” I asked.

“Erbium. The atomic number for Erbium is 68.” She said, turning to look at the large Period Table posted on the wall.

I leaned forward on the table. “Does this whole thing just say 68? 68 what?”

“I have no idea.”

“Okay. So what do we try next?” Mason asked.

“I’m going back to where my last premonition was. And I’m going alone.”

Mason and Corey looked down.

“Okay, great. You can do that. We’ll go the library, see if we find anything there.” I said.

Lydia went off on her own while Mason and Corey followed me to the library.

“What do you think we’re going to find in the library?” Mason asked.

I shook my head. “I’m not sure. It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch?” He questioned.

I spun around quickly, feeling my heart beat faster. “Yes, Mason, a hunch. I don’t know. All I know is we have to figure out what it means, and we have to find Brett. I’m not stopping until we find him.”

His eyes went wide at the anger in my voice.

“Sorry.” I mumbled. “I’m sorry. I’m just scared.”

We walked into the library and found an empty table. There were still a lot of students studying so that’s what we pretended to do as we talked quietly amongst ourselves.

“What’s significant about the number 68? What does it mean? Is there something from history? Mythology? Anything?” I whispered.

Mason shook his head. “No, nothing that I know of.”

My forehead met the tabletop with a soft thump. “What are we going to do?”

I lifted my head as Mason rattled off ideas. “68 miles, 68 degrees? Route 68?”

“Lydia will call us when she has something.” Corey said.

“But how long is that going to be?” I asked.

A small pile of books landed on the table next to me and I looked over, seeing Nolan standing beside me.

“Hey, Nolan.” I said. “Are you still studying for biology?”

“Trying, yeah. I thought you weren’t coming.” He took a seat.

I shook my head. “I wasn’t planning on it. What are you working on?”

“Um, trying to understand how organism evolve and change.” His eyes flicked from me, over to Mason and then to Corey. “Like, how a fish can turn into an alligator.”

“Uh, alligators aren’t fish, they’re reptiles.” Mason said.

I watched as Nolan’s pen scribbled across the page of his notebook, writing down what Mason told him.

“That hatch from fertilized eggs.” He continued.

“And isn’t the test on DNA versus RNA?” Corey asked.

Nolan’s head snapped up and I noticed how wide his eyes were. “Do you think DNA changes?”

“You mean like mutations? Damaged DNA?” I asked. “Yeah, it can. If cells are damaged and the body doesn’t destroy them, they replicate and produce more damaged cells which causes cancer.”

“So organism can change, organisms change.” Nolan said with an almost nervous chuckle. “They can change right in front of your eyes.”

“I don’t think this is on the test.” Corey said.

“Yeah, I wonder if organisms can change, and then change back. Like, they can be two things at once.”

My eyebrows furrowed and I turned to Mason. “Some fish can, right?”

“Parrotfish are protogynous hermaphrodites, both male and female. Hawkfish change and change back. As well as earthworms, of course…”

Corey cut him off. “That’s definitely not on the test, or any high school test.”

“I wonder if any of us have changed.” Nolan spoke.

I felt my heart hammering in my chest. This was not good.

“And if we did,” he continued, “would there be any way to tell?”

“Like a DNA test?” I asked. “For what?”

“I was thinking a different type of test.”

Before anyone could respond or react, Nolan reached out, driving the tip of his pen through the back of Corey’s hand.

Blood spurted out, drops of crimson landing on the table as he pulled his hand to his chest.

“Nolan, what the fuck are you doing?” I shrieked.

We all stood and Nolan grabbed for Corey’s hand, pulling it towards him to see that the wound had already healed.

“Look, look at him. Look!” He shouted.

I could see everyone in the library staring towards us.

Corey pulled his hand away again and Nolan turned to walk out, leaving everyone to continue staring.

“I’ll be back.” I said before chasing after Nolan.

I caught up to him the hallway. “Nolan! Wait!”

He stopped and spun around to face me, the bloody pen still in his hand.

“What the fuck was that?” I asked. “Why did you do that to Corey?”

He shook his head. “You know why. You all know! But you won’t tell me!”

I sighed. “I don’t know, Nolan. Tell me.”

He shook his head again, taking off down the hallway.

I continued following him and I watched as he turned a corner, nearly bumping into Lydia.

“Sorry.” Lydia muttered.

His backpack slid from his shoulder, revealing the back of his lacrosse hoodie.

She turned to face him and we both realized that his number was 68.

“Hey, 68!” She called out. “Hey. Hey!”

She grabbed his wrist and spun him around. “Do you know anything about Brett?”

“Who?” He asked.

She grabbed his other wrist. “Brett Talbot. Lacrosse player. What happened to him?”

“I don’t know any Brett.” He paused, examining her face. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“One of who?” She asked.

I finally spoke up. “Just let him go Lydia. He doesn’t know anything. And he’s being a grade A asshole tonight.”

He pulled away and took off running down the hall.

She turned back to me, looking for answers.

I explained how he’d attacked Corey in the library.

“It wasn’t to hurt him.” She said.

I nodded. “I know. He’s trying to expose him. He’s been acting suspicious for a while. I thought he was just scared but I guess not. He’s starting to act out now.”

“Is he the one you’re friends with?”

“Yeah. Well, I thought I was. But stabbing Corey was really not cool so I’m not so sure if I’d call him my friend right now.” I shook my head. “Whatever, let’s just go find Corey and Mason again.”

We were heading towards the library when my phone rang.

Melissa’s name flashed across the screen and I hit the answer button before lifting it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Lauren, there’s something you should probably know about that body you found.” She said.

We were just approaching Mason and Corey so I put the phone on speaker and we all gathered around to listen.

“Okay, what’s up?”

She took a deep breath. “We ran a DNA test. And – And there’s nothing there.”

“You didn’t find anyone to match?” I asked.

“No, I didn’t find any DNA. There’s no DNA, no cell structure, nothing. There’s literally nothing there.”

My jaw dropped. “Um, that’s not…Melissa, that isn’t possible.”

“I know.” She said. “And that’s not the only thing that’s weird about it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It terrified me. I’ve worked in that hospital and have been going into the morgue to collect samples for years. And I’ve never felt that kind of fear because of a body before.”

I chewed on the corner of my lip, wondering if I should tell her what I felt. “Yeah, I know what you mean. While we were in the locker room with it earlier, I was freaking out and I couldn’t figure out why. Maybe we should ask Argent.”

“Already did. I had to call him to help get the sample. He was terrified of it too.”

My eyes widened. “I didn’t think he was afraid of anything.”

“There’s definitely not much that scares him. But this, whatever it is, did.”

“Okay, um, well, thanks for letting me know. If we have any ideas, we’ll let you know. Call me if you find anything else out.” I sighed.

“Will do.” She said. “Bye, Lauren.”

“Bye.” I said, hanging up.

No one spoke for a minute, everyone seemed unsure of how to react.

“That explains why Liam didn’t smell it.” I said quietly.

“What?” Corey asked.

“Liam couldn’t smell the blood, the body. If there’s no DNA or anything, there would be nothing to smell. It’s almost like it doesn’t even exist.”

Mason shook his head, looking at the ground. “How can this even be happening?”

“It can’t. This can’t be described scientifically. This is something supernatural, it has to be.” I explained in a hushed tone. “And Brett’s still missing. And Nolan attacked Corey. This is too much for us to deal with all at once.”

Without even thinking, I slid down the wall to sit on the floor. I pulled my legs close to my chest and rested my forehead on my knees. My mind was still reeling, my brain desperately searching for any minuscule idea of where Brett could be.

“Lauren?” Lydia said softly, kneeling in front of me.

I lifted my head to look at her. “Yeah?”

She looked surprised to see tears spilling down my cheeks. “Sweetie, why don’t you go home for tonight? You can wait for Liam to get back.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. I have to help figure out where Brett is. I can’t just go home and relax. I can’t just sit there. I have to do something.”

She took both of my hands in hers. “Lauren, please. If you think of anything, you can call us. But right now, it seems like we’re at a dead end. Being here isn’t helping anything.”

“Fine. But there’s something I have to do first.” My eyes flickered up to Corey and Mason then back to Lydia. “Can one of you take Mason home? I have to take care of something.”

Lydia nodded. “Of course.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Mason asked as Lydia helped me to my feet.

“I’m going to figure out what the fuck is wrong with Nolan.” I said, pulling my keys from my pocket. “I’ll text you guys when I get home or if I hear from Liam.”

I took off down the hall before saying goodbye. When I made it to the parking lot and got into my car, there were still tears dripping from my face. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my hoodie as I started the car and peeled out of the lot.

I’d only been to Nolan’s house once before when he needed a ride home from school one day but I remembered where it was. And within a few minutes, I was parking next to the curb.

My feet carried me up to the porch and I rang the doorbell, folding my arms across my chest as I waited for someone to answer.

The door opened a blonde woman smiled at me. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Hi, Mrs Holloway. My name’s Lauren. Could I speak with Nolan, please? I know it’s kind of late and I’m sorry but it’s important.” I rushed.

She nodded. “Yes, of course. Would you like to come in?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’ll just wait here.”

She called out to her son and he came to the door a moment later, his eyes widening when he saw me standing there. He stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

I scoffed. “You really have to ask? Nolan, what the fuck is going on with you?”

He didn’t speak. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

“Honestly, I should slap you for what you did to Corey.”

“You’re asking what’s going on with me but what about him?” Nolan said, voice shaking. “I’ve seen…”

I peered up at him. “What? You’ve seen what?”

He shook his head angrily. “You know what. You know why I did that. You know everything but you’re trying to pretend like you don’t.”

My hands curled into fists and I stepped closer to him, getting in his face. “If you think you know so much, then why don’t you say it? Tell me what I know.”

His blue eyes refused to meet mine and he took a step away from me. “I don’t have to say it.”

My phone began ringing in my pocket and I groaned. But when I saw Liam’s face on the screen, I stepped away from Nolan and answered it. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Where are you?”

I could hear the sadness in his voice immediately. “I’m taking care of something. Tell me what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Brett’s dead. Lori, too.”

I barely processed what had been said before fresh tears began pouring from my eyes. “No. No, that can’t be.”

“They killed them. Hunters killed them.”

I forced myself to square my shoulders and try to stop crying. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Hurry.” He said quietly before the line went dead.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket before facing Nolan.

“Are you okay?” He asked, seeing tears in my eyes.

I shook my head. “No. No, Nolan, I’m not. Because I just found out that two of my friends are dead. I really do not have the time or patience to deal with your bullshit too. And you want to know something? You need to stop projecting your fears onto other people because you aren’t the only one who’s scared of things around here.”

Tears sprung up in his eyes and I watched as he blinked them away.

“Oh, I’m sorry? Did I upset you?” I rolled my eyes. “Get over it. I’m not going to walk on eggshells around you just because of something scared you last year. You said it yourself, I was there too. I saw the same thing you did. And I don’t run around stabbing people just because I’m scared of something.”

His shoulders slumped but he still managed to keep eye contact with me.

“I know you have your problems and I’m sorry about that. Truly, I am. But we’re all going through shit, Nolan. Every single person. So just do what the rest of us do and suffer in silence instead of taking your shit out on people who have done nothing to you.” I said, my tone softer than before, but still laced with a certain harshness.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Sorry doesn’t help anything.” I said, walking back to my car.

Nolan watched as I took off down the road, tires squealing.

I’d upset him. I was harsh. But I was hurt.

Brett was dead. Lori was dead. Not just dead, murdered. Someone had killed them, a new hunter.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles were white and my fingers aching. I was so distracted that I nearly drove past my own house but I slammed onto the brakes before turning into the driveway.

I cut the engine and sprinted into the house. Liam wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen so I ran up to his room, shoving the door open to see him crying in his bed.

When I sat down next to him, I was already crying again.

He was laying on his stomach, his face buried in a pillow as his body shook with sobs.

My hand landed on his back, rubbing the spot between his shoulder blades. “Li?”

He lifted his head to look at me. “We couldn’t save them, Ren. We tried. It – It was so close. We had them out of there and then…”

I nodded, shushing him gently when I heard him struggle to catch his breath between sobs. “I know, I know. Just breathe, Liam.”

“I can’t.” He groaned, rolling onto his back. “I can’t breathe.”

“Yes, you can.” I said, using all of my strength to pull him into a sitting position. I used one of my hands to grab his face, forcing him to look at me. “Liam, you can do anything. We’ve made it through so much already. We will make it through this too.”

“How?” He asked. “I shifted in front of people. A lot of people.”

“Okay. That’s not great news but we can deal with it.” I said.

He rolled his eyes. “They think I’m a monster. What if someone comes after me next?”

“I will ruin anyone who tries.” I assured him.

My brother sighed and wiped tears from his face. “Lauren, you can’t just…”

I cut him off. “You know damn well that I can. “

“And if someone has a gun pointed at you?” He challenged.

I laughed for a second. “Liam, I’m not afraid of getting shot. I’m not afraid of dying.”

He opened his mouth to speak but I held up one finger to stop him.

“No. I’m not scared of death. I’m scared of what could happen to you if I do nothing. I’m scared of you suffering the same fate as Brett. If keeping you alive means a bullet in my chest, then I welcome it.”

#teen wolf #nolan holloway #liam dunbar #scott mccall #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fic #nolan holloway imagine #nolan holloway fic #teen wolf fanfiction

39 notes · View notes

1310miles · 7 years ago

Text

Twenty six

This race has long been on my to-do list because of the silly idea of being themed around the Hatfield and McCoy feud. But I thought that I wouldn’t be able to use it since it takes place in Kentucky and I’ve already logged the bluegrass state. The good news is, this is a unique race that begins and ends in two different states, so I can actually use either as my state of choice. With an ending in West Virginia, this race would count as my 26th.

Originally I had imagined our trip being a family drive to the Appalachians. However, as we got closer to the race date, I realized that the race was on a Saturday, and the kids’ last day of school would be the day previous. We would need to be driving that day, and since the kids love their new school so much, and Eva would be “graduating” from elementary school, they didn’t want to miss it. Instead, my parents came to watch the kids, and Brett and I left at the crack of dawn for the ten-hour drive to eastern Kentucky.

We went straight to the packet pick up, at the local high school gymnasium. This gave us a sneak peak of the path we would be taking to get to the starting line the next morning, through many cliffs carved out of the Appalachian foothills. We had some dinner and then settled into our Hampton Inn. After I called the front desk for our 5am wake up call, we fell asleep.

Next thing I knew, I was waking up fully rested and looked at the clock to see…5:15! I guess the front desk wake up call was a fail, and I’m just lucky I woke up when I did. We hustled to pull ourselves together, slammed some breakfast in our faces, and jumped in the car for the half hour drive to the start line. I was a little bit worried about this because the race instructions said there was “no parking at the starting line”. The race information suggested we drive into town and park there, and then take a shuttle to the starting line. My concept was that Brett was going to just drop me off at the starting area, so he wouldn’t need to park, but I didn’t know if it was going to be accessible at all. I had tried to get info from the Facebook page, but I still didn’t have a response by 6 that morning.

We pulled into the Food City (grocery store) parking lot and found plenty of places to stop. Turns out, the restriction was on cars being left in the parking lot during the race. This was no problem because as soon as the race started, Brett would be leaving to travel to the next meeting spot. I’d say this was the most comfortable race starting line I’ve ever been to. Food City allowed us access to their real bathrooms (instead of porto potty), we could buy food and coffee (which Brett did) and we could stretch out in warm shelter.

The crowd started to build, although not very big. The marathon and the half marathon would be starting together, and I would estimate about 600 runners. We sang the anthem without a visible flag, and then the shotgun blast started us off.

Brett and I had a vague plan for spots to meet up. We weren’t sure about access to the route, and according to the map, there weren’t very many roads that would connect and intersect with the ones I was running. Basically, the route through the first 20 miles was all highway, and I assumed, as with other races, that we would have one lane of the road or be running on the shoulder, and regular traffic would be passing us. This race however, shut all the roads down. As soon as I turned at mile 2 onto the highway we would be on for the next six miles and saw that the runner were using the whole road, I knew I wouldn’t see Brett at any of the spots we had planned on. This was a really nice benefit for our safety, and police cars were monitoring the traffic so well that I never felt like I was sharing the road with cars, but it did make for a slightly lonely route.

The good thing was that there were water stations at every mile, at least. These spots were staffed with the most friendly, welcoming folks. It was apparent how proud they were of their hometown and how glad they were for the boost in tourism. Also, lots of people were sitting on their front porches with their coffee and their dogs, watching the runners, and almost all of them waved and shouted support. You could tell they thought we were all crazy though.

The landscape was beautiful. Green forests lined a stream we ran along side. We were beginning to go up and down some hills, and it was fun to find homes tucked away in the hollows as we came upon them.

The big challenge of this race was between miles 6 and 7- a monster hill. I had been anticipating it, wondering if I would know I was on it once I was there, but it wasn’t something you could miss. Basically straight up for a mile. I took one look, and though my pace was great, I knew I would need to walk up it. There is simply no reason to burn a ton of energy near the beginning of a race just to make it to the top of a hill. There were lots more miles to run, and I knew I would need that energy at a later time. I stuck out my elbows and walked as briskly as I could, but I was being passed by many runners gutting it out at a slow jog up to the top.

I am so grateful that I walked though. Once at the top, I was slightly winded, but also refreshed having taken a break. Those that ran were exhausted and collapsing. I was nervous for them, because it took all my wits and wherewithal to navigate the steep downhill on the other side. Without exaggeration, going down this hill, I hit 6.5 minute miles- that’s a full out sprint for me. Plus, it was so steep that I actually had to lean back and almost be parallel to the road in order to keep my balance. Many, many times I could picture myself just somersaulting all the way down. Guaranteed there were a lot of injuries on that stretch. I tried to let my body go limp, run as efficiently as I could, and just coast to the bottom.

With that behind me, I was hoping that the hills were over. In fact, one race volunteer told me it was all downhill from there. That was a false statement. When you tell a marathon runner something bold like that, it needs to be 100% true. It can’t be net downhill or mostly downhill, it needs to be flat or downhill. So that guy wasn’t my favorite race supporter. There weren’t any more huge hills though, and the ups and downs were enjoyable as a variance. But still- don’t make claims you can’t back up.

So as I’ve mentioned it was a fairly lonely race. There were many long stretches where I didn’t see any runners in front or behind me. The organizers did a great job marking the route though. All along the race path, there were signs posted, each hand written with the name of a runner who was back for a second time running the race, and words of encouragement. This really helped break up the monotony, and assure me I was on the right track. There were also cute statements on each of the mile marker signs. Funny slogans and encouragement. My favorite was at mile 10 which read “have you seen the world’s tiniest horses?” Sure enough, about a tenth of a mile down, there was a little corral with three little dwarf horses. I told the owners my daughter would want one, and they said they were for sale!!!

Mile 13 was the finish line for the half marathon, so that was a big milestone in my head. Also, as I approached, I saw that Brett had made it to cheer me on. He was with a big group of race supporters, dressed like Elvis. He was positioned on the Kentucky side of the river, and I had to run across a bridge to West Virginia and around a quaint downtown, and then back to really be half way done, so I told him to wait a moment while I ran that spur. When I came back, I changed shirts and hats and chatted with him a moment. He was frustrated by his inability to find spots to see me, but I assured him that I knew it was impossible.

I set off again, and found myself alone hoping I was on the right path. I soon found some runners and was feeling really good about my pace. I wasn’t going to get anything record breaking, but I did feel spry and able to finish. The water stops were very plentiful, and I was being smart by drinking water and Gatorade at each of them. At one point, a water stop was only about a half mile from the previous one. I declined the water, and I think that worried the volunteer. He shouted “good luck” as though he knew I was going to drop dead. The heat was starting to increase, and at one place I actually took a handful of ice and put it in the front of my sports bra. That was magical. Unbelievably, it took a mile for it all to melt; maybe I wasn’t as overheated as I thought.

I felt great and giddy until about mile 18. Then the heat started to get to me. I know I’m in trouble when I start getting goose bumps, and sure enough, I was covered in them. Temps were reaching the mid 80’s and although there was occasional shade, a lot of the road was in the beating sun. I tried to keep a good attitude, and slog through each mile, but my outlook was waning. A bright spot was when I passed the 9 minute per mile pace leader along the trail. I had a moment of excitement that maybe my watch was wrong and I was headed for a personal record, only to find out that she had had a “bathroom emergency” and was woefully off pace. Nonetheless, I did pass her and the other pace leaders and finished in front of all of them, regardless of their projected finish times. That’s something!

The final mile was a real test of my endurance. It was approaching noon, almost 90 degrees, and I was running along a very exposed highway with the sun beating down. I was feeling very weak and getting worried about my health. I was pushing my body way too hard, and was hoping to be able to actually run across the finish line rather than crawl.

Again, I crossed a river and was back in West Virginia for the finish line. I saw Brett, which was a relief, and I saw the Hatfield and McCoy actors cheering me on. I crossed and had a moment of concern that I was going to be taken to the medical tent. People kept asking me if I was ok, so I guess I must have looked bad. I got my medal and double checked that it was the MARATHON medal (not the half) and then put a cold towel on my head and sat down. I immediately felt better, and I was so glad to be done.

Once hitting the finish, I didn’t see my time. Apparently there was a clock glitch and although the computer registered my time, there was nowhere to actually see what it was for the moment. That was ok though; I figured I was right around 10 minute miles and for as tough as the race was, I was very happy with that.

#fiftystatesmarathons marathon fiftystates running hatfieldmccoy

0 notes

yahoo-puck-daddy-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Puck Lists: 8 incredible Alex Ovechkin stats

WASHINGTON, DC – FEBRUARY 01: Alex Ovechkin #8 of the Washington Capitals scores a goal against the Boston Bruins during the second period at Verizon Center on February 1, 2017 in Washington, DC. (Photo by Patrick Smith/Getty Images)

PUCK LISTS are lists of hockey things. They run every Thursday on Puck Daddy.

Alex Ovechkin broke the longest goal drought of his career on Tuesday night, scoring at 5-on-5 against the Minnesota Wild. Before that, he’d gone 10 games without a goal, and the fact that that’s the longest dry run of his career is pretty astounding.

In fact, even in the past five years, when he aged into his late 20s and then early 30s, he’d never gone more than six games without scoring. That’s bonkers.

[Follow Puck Daddy on social media: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook | Tumblr]

The thing with Ovechkin is that he’s a total freak. The Ovechkin Spot has been a very real thing since he came into the league, and this is the first year in a very long time it hasn’t worked for him to a shocking extent. Ovechkin makes his goals through both deadly shooting accuracy and an insistence on shooting the puck. He’s led the league in shots on goal 10 times in 11 completed seasons (he’s probably not going to do it this year, but he’s still at 252 in just 68 games, the kind of number even elite shooters don’t hit in 82).

This will be only the third full-82 season of his career in which he didn’t score at least 46 goals, but the fact that he’s basically guaranteed to also hit 30 again indicates just how good he is and has been.

So not to get too much of a career retrospective going here, but I just like to think about Alex Ovechkin shooting and goal stats sometimes, so here we go (with a huge thanks to the indispensable Hockey Reference for allowing me to dig through all these numbers):

8. Leading the league in shots, a lot

As mentioned above, Ovechkin had the most shots on goal in the NHL from every year from 2005-06 to 2010-11, then again from 2012-13 to last season. Either one of those runs would be the longest individual streak in which any player led the league in shots on goal by season.

The only other time anyone even did it four times in a row was when Phil Esposito did it from 1970-74.

And by the way, while Ovechkin’s 528 SOG is the gold standard in anything we can call modern hockey, the all-time single-season leader is that 1970-71 season for Esposito: he had 550 that year.

7. Will he get there?

But as prolific as Ovechkin is at shooting the puck, he’s only 15th in league history in total shots on goal.

Right now, Ovechkin has nearly 4,500 career shots, but he’s a long way from the NHL record. That’s held by Ray Bourque, who both played forever and was a shot-volume monster as well.

The record is 6,206 shots.

It’s a pretty safe bet that Ovechkin clears 300 shots once again this season. Let’s say that’s the benchmark. Probably gets him into the neighborhood of being 1,675 shots short of the all-time mark. That means he has to have another five seasons exactly like this one to approach Bourque’s record.

That’s pretty crazy to think about.

6. Clearing 300 shots

Man, 300 shots is a whole hell of a lot to put up in a single season. Ovechkin does it literally every year they play the full 82.

He and Bourque already sit atop the all-time leader board with 10 seasons of 300-plus shots, and Ovechkin will almost certainly surpass that number this year.

No current NHLers are likely to even come close to hitting that number; Jaromir Jagr is the only guy even in the top-10 right now, and he only has five.

Ovechkin’s lead on the entire history of hockey (well, shot stats only go back to the late ’60s, but you see what I mean) is only going to keep growing.

5. Hats off

Here’s a wild one for ya: Ovechkin leads all current NHL players in career hat tricks. He has 16.

Jaromir Jagr, who has been an elite player forever and started his career 15 years before Ovechkin, is one short of that mark.

However, he’s still got a long, long way to go to match Wayne Gretzky (50) or even get into the top 15 (Pavel Bure and Darryl Sittler are tied at 20). He probably won’t do it. Which just goes to show you how different today’s game is than the era when most of these guys played.

So the fact that Ovechkin is even sniffing that number? That’s amazing.

But what about four-goal games? Ovechkin’s done it three times. That ties him for fifth in league history. No current player meets that number.

However, it should come as no surprise that Mario Lemieux is the big leader here, with 11. And isn’t it weird that Gretzky only had one game like this in his career?

Also worth noting, though, that Ovechkin isn’t even the current leader in most goals in a single game. Who can forget Marian Gaborik’s five-goal performance in 2008? Or when Johan Franzen (no longer a current player, I realize) did it in 2011?

4. Speaking of individual games…

The NHL record for most shots in a single game is held by, who else, Ray Bourque. With 19 against the Quebec Nordiques on March 21, 1991. Nineteen! In fact, Ovechkin isn’t even second on this list, because there was a game against the Carolina Hurricanes in 2006 when Marian Hossa put 16 on net (and only scored once, but then again, so did Bourque).

Ovechkin one-ups them easily: He had two 15-shot games. He’s the only guy to ever clear 14 in a game more than once. And in one of those games, Ovechkin went 0 for 15. In the other he went 2 for 15. So, hooray.

In fact, Ovechkin is the league’s all-time leader in 10-shot games, and it’s not close. He’s done it 45 times — good lord! — and Brett Hull comes in second with only 21. Bure’s the only other guy to hit 20.

And how about this: If you put together all the 10-shot games from non-Jagr current, you need to combine Brent Burns (four); Evander Kane, Rick Nash, James Neal, and Max Pacioretty (five each); Jeff Carter (six); Evgeni Malkin (seven); and Eric Staal (nine), to come out even one ahead of Ovechkin’s career total.

3. What about no shots?

But okay, you know Ovechkin is a beast when it comes to shooting the puck. But what’s amazing is that less than 1 percent of all his games in his entire career have seen him held off the shot list altogether.

He has just nine games without a single shot on goal. Bourque, the career leader in shots on goal, didn’t register a shot 580 times.

That’s a fairly big gap, even if you account for the fact that of course it would be harder for a defenseman to get it on goal than a forward.

LOS ANGELES, CA – JANUARY 28: Alex Ovechkin #8 of the Washington Capitals reacts during 2017 NHL All-Star Media Day as part of the 2017 NHL All-Star Weekend at the JW Marriott on January 28, 2017 in Los Angeles, California. (Photo by Bruce Bennett/Getty Images)

2. Accounting for the era

And let’s not forget, Ovechkin’s 553 career goals already put him No. 27 on the all-time list, and he’s just three back of Johnny Bucyk. But what you have to keep in mind is that Ovechkin also plays in the most difficult goalscoring era in the history of hockey.

But when you adjust for the scoring of the era, Ovechkin obviously catapults up the list. All things being equal, he would likely have 637 goals in an era-neutral scoring environment, putting him 14th on the all-time list already. However, he’s still only third among active players, trailing Jarome Iginla (sixth at 704) and Jagr (second at 841).

For the record, era-adjusting goalscoring heavily penalizes Wayne Gretzky, who drops from first by a mile to third. Gordie Howe moves up to No. 1.

1. Hitting the mark

Given the era situation, that’s why it’s so crazy that Ovechkin is No. 3 on the career list of 50-goal seasons, with seven. He trails only Wayne Gretzky and Mike Bossy, both of whom have nine. No other current player has more than three (here, too, it’s Jagr).

The unfortunate thing is that Ovechkin probably doesn’t have it in him to match Gretzky or Bossy. Even with the 300-plus-shot volume, and even if we assume that this year he’s just having a little bit of bad luck (he’s shooting 10.7 percent versus his previous career average of 12.4), the days of Ovechkin winning the Rocket Richard are probably behind him.

[Join a Yahoo Daily Fantasy Hockey contest now]

But given his game, you never know. It wouldn’t be surprising to see him hit No. 8 next year, would it?

Speaking of the Rocket Richard, they only started awarding it in 1998, but Ovechkin’s won it six times. No other player did it more than twice.

But in terms of year-by-year goal leaders, Ovechkin is currently tied with Esposito for second-most seasons at the top of the goals list. He’s one behind Bobby Hull. But that also puts him one ahead of both Gretzky and the guy the award is named after.

So that’s pretty good.

Ryan Lambert is a Puck Daddy columnist. His email is here and his Twitter is here.